


Shadow Realm

by ShadowRealm



Series: Shadow Realm [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, Suicide Attempt, suicide warnings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-15
Updated: 2015-03-09
Packaged: 2018-01-19 10:52:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1466791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowRealm/pseuds/ShadowRealm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You can't save me, no one can. No one should," Stiles said as he stood on the ledge of the ten story building. "They told me to reach for the sun - and to fly." Stiles said as the tears streamed more freely down his face. "Stiles, don't, we need you. I need you," Lydia said as she tried and coax him down off the ledge. "I love you, Lydia Martin, more than what is probably healthy," Stiles said and slowly got down off of the ledge, "But I shouldn't, and neither should you." Stiles said and turned around to run and leap off the ledge. "STILES!" Scott and Lydia screamed as they watched him plummet down the building, stories at a time. </p><p>This life had proven to be too much for me, and i just couldn't take it any more. But this isn't a sad pity story, this is a warning. A warning that says: Never trust those who you should even if it means not trusting your self. Because you never know who you are when you're not you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The End of a Begining

_Chapter One_

_The End of a Beginning_

_Stiles_

 

_“Stiles,” Scott pleaded from behind me. I looked back, smiling weakly at the teen. “Please, don’t do this!” He tried, staring at me as if I held the world in my hands. I shook my head, I couldn’t listen to him, I had to do what was right._

_“I-I can’t take this anymore…” I said softly, yet loud enough for him to hear over the howling of the wind. His head shot up, staring at me like I was crazy. I stepped closer to the edge, taunting both Scott and myself. I was testing my limits. The final act; the way to tell if I could go as far as I planned._

_“Think of your family!” Scott yelled, struggling to be heard. It wasn’t just the wind who was drowning him out. I looked at him, defeated and broken._

_“What family?” I asked, knowing that I was in fact alone in this world. “My father doesn’t care about me anymore, I don’t have anyone.” I finished, my voice cracking halfway through. I thought that it was terribly hypocritical of me to be doing this when I had coached Scott through the same circumstances a year ago. The only difference was he had tried to burn himself alive under the influence of wolfsbane. I was different…_

_“You have us,” Lydia said, stepping forwards from the door she had appeared from, “You have us and we have you.” She added, taking her place next to Scott. “We_ **_need_ ** _you, Stiles. Remember how you told me that death never happens to me, it happens to everyone around me?” She asked, but before she could say anything else after her question I cut her off._

_“You don’t need me, I only cause destruction.” I reminded, stepping closer to the edge. I felt a tear slip down my cheek. I was really going to do this, I was really going to leave my friends behind._

_“Stiles, we love you,” Lydia said and Scott nodded, reaching out to grab my hand. I smiled at the gesture before dropping his hand. I looked back to Lydia, feeling awful for the things that bubbled up inside of me only to burst out moments later._

_“I’m sorry,” I said. “I love you both. Lydia, I love you to the ends of the Earth and back. And Scott, man, you are my_ **_brother._ ** _And you don’t deserve the pain that I’m going to bring you.” I said, hating how much I sounded like the demonic spirit that once inhabited my body. I shrugged off the thought. I turned back around and face the ledge, I stepped up onto it. The open air called to me as the wind swayed me back and forth. I thought about how simple it would have been to just step off minutes ago. To save all the dramatics and theatrics for another day, but instead I found it best to say my goodbyes._

_“_ **_Stiles!”_ ** _Scott howled as I smiled at them sadly before raising my hands up and leaning forwards. I felt fingertips brush the edge of my shirt. I began to wave my arms around, trying to keep upright. It was human instinct, to try and survive until the end, but sometimes the end comes faster than you could have ever thought._

_Time appeared to slow down as I fell through the air. They always say that driving a motorcycle is the closest thing you can get to flying. But I’ve ridden motorcycles and it’s nothing compared to this. But then again, I suppose I wasn’t flying…I was falling._


	2. There's a Void in My Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! So, I just want to let you all know that I re-wrote this chapter, as well as all further chapters. I will be re-writing the entire story and sequel so please check back for more chapters! 
> 
> -SR
> 
> (Edit: I am aware that Wytrzymałość is actually a pretty common Polish word, but it was more about the symbolism for me. Sorry, I'm certain many people can actually pronounce it -- but in this fic, let's just pretend it's the most rare name ever.)

_Chapter Two_

_There’s a Void in My Heart_

_Stiles_

 

      The darkness that overtakes my heart. The shadows that fill into my vision as I lose my control. 

 

      The blood that stains my hands. The thick stench of it coating my world as I stare down. 

 

      The monster that manipulates. The creature that stalks and follows you until you reach your end. 

 

      The pain that relentlessly tortures me. The unbearable feeling that is with you through it all. 

 

      The darkness. 

 

      The monster that hides in the shadows, blood layering his hands as he stalks his prey. The monster is me. The monster is me, and I am the monster. He follows you until the end, he whispers in your ear as you struggle to run away. 

 

      The darkness. 

 

      The pain that floods you as you run away, the pain that catches up with you no matter how fast you run. You can run, but you can never hide. He will always be there, trapping you like a rat in a maze. He never gives up, because he knows that he has the upper hand. He chooses his victims and if you’re unlucky enough then you will fall prey to his claws. The claws that dig into your side as he takes control. The monster that hides in the dark has finally revealed himself to you, taunting you until you wish that he would go back to the Hell from whence he came from. 

 

      The Nogitsune. 

 

     One thousand years of pain. One thousand years of torture. One thousand years of experience. He takes those years and he puts them to use. He will always be smarter than you, always more cunning, sly, and witty. He will always shove you down into the dirt, always make you feel smaller than him…because you _are_ **.**

 

      He knows that you will never be strong enough to fight back and he uses that knowledge to his advantage. I would know. He takes your family and twists them back on you. He makes you feel sorry for even being alive. He never leaves. He uses you until you’re just a body, a shell of what you used to be. A shadow of who you could have been. 

 

      He tells you things. Riddles that would confuse the smartest mind. He tricks you into thinking that you can escape, that you will ever escape. 

But sometimes you can get lucky. Sometimes the monster inside will slip up and give you and inch of rope, and if you’re lucky enough you might be able to hang him with it. 

 

      The Nogitsune will do whatever he can to trick people, to cause chaos, strife, and pain because that is what he lives for. So, to do just that he runs into the abandoned distillery, leading the way for the werewolves that chase him to fall into his trap.  

 

      He stops, skidding around and I am forced to watch as the scene unfolds before my eyes. In my mind he laughs, telling me that his plan is falling into place. I am helpless to do anything at all. I am a soul without a body, forced to watch on like a cruel bystander trapped in his own body. I’m scared to death as my friends stop in front of the Nogitsune that possesses my body. 

 

      Words are spoken, but for me they fall to deaf ears. I watch, praying that this will be over soon. I want nothing more than to just sleep, to fall back into a safe, comforting darkness. But the Nogitsune never lets me, he keeps me up never allowing me rest. Hallucinations of dead family, of my pack tearing me apart, of my mother plague my would-be sleep. I want nothing more than to get out, nothing more than to just _die._ That is what the Nogitsune has pushed me to. 

      I feel an energy surge inside of me, I felt the dark spirit’s puzzled emotions run through me.  

 

**Stiles,** he taunts, **what are you doing?** I gather up my strength. I was not going to give up! I was not going to fall prey to those bigger than me. I could defeat this monster, I could overpower the monster that lives inside of my head. **Wytrzymałość!** he shouts, using my real name. I wince, only my mother would use my name. She was the only one who could ever pronounce it right, not even my father can. I shake off the insults and threats he continues to throw at me. 

Power surges through me, I use it and pray that I can defeat this beast. The Nogitsune does everything he can to stop me from rising up, I don’t know what to expect — and with that I don’t know how to stop him. He blocks off my vision and puts me in a hallucination-like state. 

 

      I fight against the walls that threaten to push in on me in this room I have been placed in. 

 

_“_ This isn’t real! _”_ I shout out, the white walls mocking me as they slowly close in. _I need to wake up from this nightmare,_ I think as I run over to one of the walls. The shadows form from behind me, I can hear them whispering to me as I struggled to escape from their grasp. 

 

_Come back to us, Stiles…_  

 

      The darkness fills in as I begin to sink to the floor. I push myself up against the wall, pulling my knees close to my chest as I curl in on myself. I want to get away from this madness, this insanity that plagues my mind. I can feel the dark tendrils of the darkness that gently wisps over my skin. My hands fly up to my head, my fingers threading themselves in my hair as I pull at it — wishing to pull it out. 

 

       I need to wake up. I need to wake up. I need to wake up. 

 

_“_ Come on, come on,” I whisper ducking my head between my knees as I struggle to force out anymore words. The weigh of the spirit weighing down on my shoulders. The pain and torture he threatens to inflict on me — on my family shoves my courage down. “Come on Stiles! You need to wake up.” I say. Giving up would get me and my pack nowhere, if I was going to bring this monster down I was going to have to fight. Standing up I push at the spirit that wraps itself around my legs, tying me down. 

 

       Chest heaving, my mind threatening to shut down to shelter myself from this enemy, I open my mouth forcing out a yell. “Wake up, Stiles! Wake up, Stiles!” I repeat the mantra over and over again wishing for it to happen. “This is just a nightmare — and the only way to get out of it is to wake up. So wake up Stiles! _WAKE UP!”_ The power that was held within the words — within myself — erupts out and helps me get a grip on that rope. It’s like a harsh game of tug-of-war — except this time it’s a fight for power. I pull on the figurative rope and I struggle to hang him with it. 

 

       I fight against the waves of pain that crash down on me. The waves pull at me, they grope for any part of my body and mind that can drag me down into their depths. Without mercy that throw whatever they can at me, clawing at my ankles as I escape from the ocean they had forced me into. 

 

        Fear begins to fill my heart. _I will not escape this Hell with my life,_ I think for I know it to be true, _but the least I can do is take down this fiend with me!_ My words empowering myself as I fight against the shadows. 

 

       “ **Stiles!”** The Nogitsune shouts. I summon all the remaining strength I have, repeating over and over again in my head “Wake up, Stiles, wake up…” for I know that if I can get myself to believe it it will happen.  **“You cannot defeat me! I’m a thousand years old — you think you can beat me? You will all die! You will suffer more times than you can count! I am the Nogitsune you puny human! You are mice compared to I — the cat!”** The demon yells and I clutch my ears. 

The darkness that surrounds my mind fades in and out as I rebel against the villain that haunts my life. I break through the barrier that held me back, the one that contained me for so long. 

 

       The shadows dissipate and I know that I have won. _The hunted becomes the hunter,_ I think for that is all that has happened. For a few seconds nothing happens, emptiness fills me and I stay inside my mind but finally I break through once more and come to the world that has been so cruel to me. 

       Falling to the ground is the first thing that I feel and become aware of. I vaguely notice the pain that sparks up from my shoulder but I welcome it — it is the first actual emotion that I feel and it feels so real. I find my mind staying quiet in the few moments after my fall, the silence feeling wonderful after being forced to share my mind with another for so long. 

 

       I can feel the presence of others surrounding me and I want to open my eyes and see who it is but I find the calm warmth of my mind to be so much more welcoming. I can hear my name being called over and over again but I brush it off — I know that they will be there when I wake up. I slowly allow the darkness to envelope me and for the first time in a while I feel safe. My name breaks through the darkness as my pack calls to me, I can identify their voices now. Either I’m coming closer to the surface or I’m imagining them. I feel hands touching my legs and back and can pick up the sensation of being lifted up. 

 

       I couldn’t bring myself to care what happened after that as I relished the win that just occurred. _I managed to fight against the dark spirit that was over one thousand years old and win!_ I thought, almost drunkenly. The darkness laid claim to my mind as I drifted off into unconsciousness. 

 

       I can tell that time passes from within the time that I drift in and out of consciousness. This time I’m so close to the surface that I can hear the voices that surround me. The soft ground on which I am laying on feels of something not natural. Judging by the voices, my surroundings, and the lost feelings of nature I came to the conclusion that I was in a car — Derek’s car. 

 

       Feeling weak once more I drift back out listening to Derek’s harsh call of, “Speed up, Scott! I can’t hear his heartbeat!” of course that should have me worried but I right now I can’t bring myself to care. This feeling that courses through me makes me feel as if I am in water — in itself it’s surreal but I think that this is me floating in-between life and death. One side calling towards me to stay whilst the other waits for no one and pulls you in when you least expect it. I find myself being dragged to the side which holds the most darkness — it tells you nothing about what to expect, it stays dark and mysterious which is what frightens me the most about it. I’ve already let something bigger than me take control before and it’s not happening again. I fight against the current and work to get back to the side that calls for me to fight, for me to stay. If I can’t fight for myself I can fight for my friends. 

 

       Time passes slower when your fighting between life and death because when I return to my mind don’t hear the worried sound of Derek’s call or the sharp intake of breath from Scott as he struggles to drive without crashing. The silence is deafening. After being coerced into sharing your mind with another you learn to expect a second voice but now I just feel…empty. 

 

        I know that my mind and body needs to rest which is why I’m not awake right now but I need to be there for my family. 

Waking up from the state that I am in right now is like breaking free from the bonds that tie me down. It’s hard and exhausting and I know that by doing this my recovery — whatever that is — is going to take a little bit longer. But I will be fine, I swear on it. 

 

        As I get closer and closer to waking up I become more and more aware of the noises and smells around me. The incessant beeping of what sounds like a heart monitor and the harsh scent of disinfectant. I’m in a hospital. 

 

       I groan and shift around in the bed in which I am laying in. I hear someone’s breath pick up and I feel the air rush over to me followed by the body that chased it. 

      “Stiles? Stiles, are you awake?” The voice says, my ears and brain trying to decipher the words and the voice to which they belong to. 

“Stiles?” The voice asks again and I am able to tell that it is my Dad. I moan and shift around in the bed once more. I try to crack my eyes open, succeeding only to be blinded by the lights. 

 

      “Lights.” I manage to get out, my throat dry and worn out. I hear the sound of his feet shuffling in order to reach the light switch. I hear the sound of the switch flicking into the off position and feel the sweet relief it brings to my pounding head. I cough and crack my eyes open, glancing up into the face of my Father. 

 

      “Do you need water? Another blanket - are you cold?” Dad asks, placing a hand on my shoulder, tentative with his movements. I nod and croak out the word ‘water’ for him to hear, still hating the harsh grinding that appears in my throat whenever I make the attempt to speak. I must be drifting in and out of awareness because the next thing I am aware of it the fact that there is a small cup pressed up against my lips. I greedily take in the water, allowing it to dribble down my chin because the last thing that I am concerned about is my appearance.

 

       I still feel awful, like there is a massive boulder weighing heavily on my chest. I still feel as if there is an entire army berating me into submission — waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike the death blow. I can feel the blindness that being unconscious offers and right now it’s dealing a good hand, threatening to beat me and win — taking control and pulling me into sleep. 

 

      “Get some sleep,” My Father says, but I am already way ahead of him. I close my eyes once more, drifting off into thought only to be forced away from such and thrust into nothingness. Feelings of weakness fill the emptiness in my mind and I begin to falter with my health. Waking up as early as I did put me on a major setback. 

 

      Beeping fills my mind as I drift off into the most permanent of sleep’s. The sound of the door opening and nurses and doctors rushing in becomes present. I feel as if I should be concerned but all I could think about was the numbness that filled my body and left me paralyzed. I can hear the sound of struggling and the rushed breaths of the human beside me. I feel the sharp prick of a needle enter my arm and then a rush of electricity that flows through my chest. I manage to catch a few words of the doctor standing beside me. 

 

      “Clear!” He shouts and the electricity flows through me once more. The sounds of voices begin to even out as a nurse utters the words, ‘he’s stable.’ A few sighs of relief echo around the room, and I feel their relief flow into me. I fall back into sleep and this time I know somehow that I won’t be waking up again until I am completely healed. 

 

—————————————————————————————————

 

      As the time I am aware of begins to pass I can slowly feel myself deteriorating — not healing. The walls of the world that I once knew slowly falling — crumbling to ash and dust. This feeling of hopelessness begins to invade my mind and force me to the ground, leaving me to my own worst nightmares. But even in this state I can feel and sense the presence of my friends and family. I can hear the comforting words that manage to slip past the barriers of darkness my own body has put up against my mind’s will. 

 

      The sounds of life that flood in around force me to realize that I am completely hopeless. The world around me continued even while I lay here in this hospital bed, unable to move; to say anything; to even do a _thing_ , and the world just spun on. I was an insignificant being in a world full of beings thinking they are significant. The world is bigger than I will ever be — than I ever _could_ be, and laying here in this room has made me realize this. It has made me realize that even though my pain is immense; my troubles and worries feel bigger than the world; my concerns that rises above everything else, it is no bigger, no worse, no more concerning than someone else’s troubles, worries, pain, and concerns. With each breath I take — with each shuddering breath that leaves me wondering if I’ll have the strength to take in another — I begin to struggle to hold onto that little ledge of hope in an otherwise endless pit filled with doubt and darkness, begging for me to fall; to stumble; to give up…and parts of me wonder when I am going to do just what it asks. 

 

      The surreal feeling of floating in-between life and death has become the norm with me. The feeling of being stuck underwater — unable to swim back up and take a breath will always be with me. I thought back to the time I was visiting Ms. Morell — the guidance counselor and French teacher — and talking to her, a few days after the full moon, and after Matt’s death.

 

      “ _You know when you're drowning, you don't actually inhale until right before you black out.’” I say, restringing the mesh on my lacrosse stick. I take a deep breath and glance up at her. “It's called voluntary apnea. It's like no matter how much you're freaking out, the instinct to not let any water in is so strong that you won't open your mouth until you feel like your head's exploding.” My words begin coming out faster I retell the knowledge I have on the subject, but judging by the look on Morell’s face I am certain that I am only telling her everything she already knows — but I continue anyway. “But then when you finally do let it in, that's when it stops hurting. It's not scary anymore. It's...It's actually kind of peaceful.” My voice trails off as I slow to a halt. Ms. Morell’s voice picks up, beginning her own question._

 

      The memory fades to a distant thought as my own mind continues it by subjecting me to questions of my own. Being stuck in this state leaves me to control most of the atmosphere around me, and sometimes not. 

 

      The world around me turns dark. Suddenly I’m standing in the middle of a colorless world, water beginning to fill in around at my feet. It raises higher and higher and I am left helpless, unable to do a thing to help myself but try and remember that this is just my own imagination and that it cannot hurt me. 

As the water hits my waist I begin to freak out. What if this was my body’s way of telling me that I was going to die — by having me die in a hallucination of sorts? The fear of the unknown begin to set in as the water hit my shoulders. I was swimming, trying to live. 

 

      Water. It swirled around me, trying it’s hardest to suck me under and hold me in it’s grasp. My feet and arms kicked and paddled wildly. The feeling never left, staying with me until my head the ceiling of this mysterious place. The water lapped at my lips, pulling down and struggling to invade my mouth; my nose; my ears; my eyes. I coughed, held my breath and prayed for someone or something to save me. 

 

      The immense pain and horrifying feeling of terror coursed through my body. My lungs clenched as the clawed and begged for air. My head pounded, telling me to ignore my body’s wish to open my mouth and take in the water that surrounded me — for it knew that I would only die quicker. _Voluntary apnea,_ it supplied for me as if I didn’t already know what was happening. The body’s natural response to keep you alive. Survival was the key instinct within humans and animals alike. Everything that we know, that we even _think_ we know is based off of the natural instinct to survive and keep on surviving. Without that feeling we never would have gotten to where we were today, no houses; no food; no stores; no computers; no medicines; no nothing. 

 

      I was finding it hard not to breathe, a deep weight settled in my chest and refused to get out. I opened my eyes, a light burning in front of me and I could only think of the tales and legends of seeing a light at the end of the tunnel. But, where was the tunnel? I had gotten one part of the two part story, and what is one part without the other? 

 

      The pain was unbearable and through the water, the darkness, the seemingly never-ending torture that I was going through I could feel that nagging sensation in the back of my mind that told me I was going to die become more present. 

 

      The world around me screamed and began to falter. The black walls turned to red as the sound of an alarm went off. The water disappeared and the ground turned to quicksand. I gasped for air as I struggled to remain calm once more. I walked quickly to the wall before I was sucked into the sand. I knew that if I kept moving fast enough I wouldn’t be pulled in, but even in this world I tired out quickly. 

 

      The walls were pouring a thick black liquid out of the part where it met the ceiling. As I ran I found a small platform that was above the sand, finding my savior in this world was a gift sent from Heaven. I crawled onto it and sat down, feeling the black liquid seep down through my shirt from by place against the world. It’s viscosity was high and it clung to my skin. I couldn’t put a name to what it was but I had seen it before. 

 

      I pulled my knees close to my chest and wrapped my arms around them, ducking my head in between them — still gasping for air. I shut my eyes as I felt the hysteria beginning to build up. A loud bout of laughter erupted from within my chest. 

 

      “You’ve gone crazy,” I whispered to myself, rubbing absentmindedly across my hands. I took a deep breath and cleared my mind. 

When I opened my eyes again I wasn’t on the platform anymore, I was sitting on a particularly familiar tree stump, one that I had hoped to put behind me. I sat down cross-legged on it and ran my hand across the moss that grew there. The white room soon faded to trees and dirt. 

 

      The clearing where the Nemeton used to grow became visible. I got up, thankful for the opportunity to explore a little bit. I quickly found the doors to the root cellar and began walking down the stairs. I saw the tree roots and what lay on them. A sharp intake of breath came from me as I saw the blood that littered the roots. A voice from behind me told me what and whose blood it belonged to. 

 

      “Paige,” he said, almost sadly. I whipped around, recognizing the voice but not believing that he was here, in my mind. I felt relief course through me as I saw a familiar face amongst this Hell I had been put through. 

 

      “Derek.” I said, as if I were just acknowledging his presence. He smiled softly and sat down on the stairs. I followed after him, sitting down beside him. “What’s going on? Why am I here?” I asked, hoping that he would have the answers. 

 

      “Stiles, I’m not real. I can’t tell you anything more than you already know.” He replied. I took my face in my hands, not wanting to believe it. “But I can tell you one thing,” Derek said, glancing over at me slowly. His gaze grew serious but softened when he spoke again. “You’re dying, Stiles.” He put his hand on my knee as I broke down. I had already known it but hearing it just made it all the more real. Hearing it from someone I cared about made it just all the worse. Suddenly the horrible feeling of trauma and death came crashing down on me, leaving me empty inside. 

 

      “Derek, please, tell me that it’s not true. Tell me that this is just a horrible prank, a nightmare and I am going to wake up and this will all be over!” I pleaded standing up, dragging him with me. “Tell me that this isn’t real and help me escape this all! Tell me that I’m not going to die! Please, Derek!” I cried, tears running down my face as I grabbed onto him, feeling vulnerable and weak. 

 

      “I’m sorry, Stiles.” Derek said, grabbing my shoulder and squeezing it tightly. I grabbed his arms holding them just as tightly. I looked up at him, his face seeming more and more opaque as he began to disappear. 

 

      “No, no, please, Derek don’t leave me. I cannot do this on my own!” I shouted, as if that would help and keep him with me. Soon I was grasping at air and I was alone once again. I began to repeat the mantra of “No, no, no,” over and over again until my voice grew hoarse. 

 

      I ran back up through the cellar doors, I could never catch up with my friends. They were always faster than me, I could never catch up and join them once again in the realm of the living. Right now I was just stuck in the shadow realm. I stumbled over my own feet and landed on the Nemeton once more. 

 

     “You did this to me! You ruined my life!” I shouted, pounding at it with my fists. “You made me open the door in my mind! You made me let the Nogitsune in! You brought it here!” I yelled, my voice cracking as I felt the will to live and survive leave me. I didn’t want to do this anymore. In that moment I welcomed death and I awaited it. I sat back down on the Nemeton, my fists bloodied and bruised, throbbing with each heartbeat. 

 

      I could feel the presence of others surround me. I wondered if Derek was back as I look up and around. It wasn’t just Derek, it was Scott, and Lydia, and Isaac, and Erica and Boyd, it was my father and Scott’s mother, it was Peter and Derek, Cora and… I gasped. 

 

      “Mom,” I whispered, and it was only then I could be certain that this wasn't real. There was no way for me to see my mother except in my dreams, and this wasn't a dream, this was my light at the end of the tunnel. She smiled and walked towards me as I shakily stood up. She took my hands in hers and squeezed them tightly. 

 

      “My poor little thing,” She said and sat down on the stump, pulling me down with her. The rest of the pack crowded around our feet, tears quietly running down their faces. I moved in closer to my Mother, sobbing into her shoulder. 

 

     “I’m so sorry, Mom, I’m so, so sorry.” I cried. I heard soft murmurs erupt from the pack. Erica moved in closer, rubbing my leg comfortingly. Feeling the contact made me feel even worse, feeling it from Erica made me feel like I deserved the Hell I was given. 

 

      Erica and Boyd sat together, holding each others hands. Their eyes were bright and hopeful, as if they still though that they both had a future. Knowing what happened to them weighed down my heart until I felt like it was going to burst. 

 

      My Dad stood up and sat next to my Mom, taking her other hand and looking as if he couldn’t be anymore in love with her. It hurt me to see them so happy for I knew that in the real world it was nothing like this. Dad drank and was always at least a little sad, and Mom…well, Mom was dead. 

 

      Scott was gripping my other hand, I hadn’t even realized he was sitting next to me until I looked for him. He smiled at me, tears falling off of his jaw and onto his lap. I took my hand away from my Mom and put it up against his face. I cupped his cheeked and smiled back. I pulled him in close and hugged him tightly. I knew that this was a pack reunion…this was a farewell. I pulled away from Scott and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, this was going to be my last chance to see him. I could feel myself choking up and the tears flowing faster. Scott slowly disappeared, leaving me staring at air.

 

      I looked back at the pack, willing them not to disappear, but slowly Erica and Boyd disappeared. I looked at Isaac who raised his right hand and waved a sad goodbye. 

 

      Lydia stood up and walked over to me. I stood up as well, grabbing her shoulders. She smiled and grabbed my neck, pulling me in softly. She closed her eyes and pressed a light kiss to my lips. I closed my eyes and relished in the moment. But, when I opened my eyes again…she was gone. 

 

      Peter smirked at me, but behind the smirk I could tell that even he was sad. It was strange to see him here, but I suppose that even though he didn’t deserve it he was pack. I nodded my head at him, a silent thanks for the support. He returned the nod and then he wasn’t there anymore.

 

      Cora stood up and saluted to me, I returned it and then she was replaced by air. I clenched my jaw and closed my eyes, trying to be strong but it was hard to say goodbye to my pack. 

 

      Derek was the last one there, besides my parents. He didn’t say anything, just raised his head to the sky and howled. From behind the tree-line I could hear other wolves joining in. A mournful howl was sung from the werewolves of the Hale Pack. I raised my head and joined in, the boy who ran with wolves saying his final goodbye. When I looked back down it was to see Derek smiling at me before he too was gone. 

 

      My mother and father glanced at me once before they left me to pass on.

 

      “I don’t want to die.” I said softly, my voice breaking and betraying me. My mother pulled me in and sat me down between her and my father. Both of them lay an arm around me and hugged me tightly. My Mom nodded in understanding but stayed silent. A soft whine escaped from my father’s throat as he stood up to bid his only son farewell. 

 

     “I couldn’t have done any of this without you.” He said, his voice starting off strong but faltering halfway through and leaving him shaking. His words were laced with sorrow and I could tell that he would never be able to get over the death of both his son and his wife. I couldn’t leave him alone out there — I wouldn’t…but what could I do to stop it from happening; nothing. 

 

     “I’m so sorry I did this to you.” I said and closed my eyes. A final tear escaped from my eyes. I didn’t open my eyes for I knew what I would see. I _was alone in my final moments,_ I couldn’t help but think. A sharp pain pierced through my side as I felt the end nearing. I cried out, not knowing what it was. I clutched it, and when I pulled my hand back it was covered in black blood. 

 

      Clues rushed back and I found myself connecting the dots. The walls covered in this liquid, the root cellar, it wasn’t random acts of my mind it was my mind predicting what was going to happen. How it could do that, I don’t know, but somehow it knew. 

 

     The walls were covered in this stuff, but what it was I still couldn’t figure out. _The root cellar_ , I thought knowing that it would be the piece that gave away the rest of the puzzle. I remembered what Derek first said when he arrived in my mind. _“Paige,”_ he had said, I recalled. Paige was bit by Ennis and then rejected the bite, she had bled black blood. Suddenly, everything made sense. 

 

     “I was bit by a werewolf—” I said softly, not wanting to believe it. My vision began to swim in darkness as my mind supplied the last part of the sentence, _and your body is rejecting it, too…_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. How About a Game of Chess?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, can we just talk about how shit of an author/updater I am? Like, wow, that's got to be a new personal record of laziness. Anyway, here's a chapter. I like it. I hope you like it. Comment and kudos are always appreciated. 
> 
> :)

_Chapter Three_

_How About a Game of Chess?_

 

 

 

 

Running through the woods as the pack chased after the boy who typically ran with them was a new challenge they were forced to overcome. He had attacked two members of Derek’s pack, forcing them out of hiding to seek him out; to fight back. 

Derek heard Scott growl and lunge forward, dragging his claws across Stiles’ leg. Stiles stumbled before catching himself and continuing his running. He was sprinting through the woods with inhuman abilities, any other person would have tired out ages ago, succumbing to fatigue and collapsing, even if they were powered by adrenalin. 

A dark shape loomed in the distance. Haunting over the trees as they headed right for it. A deep chuckle erupted from the shadows and the Nogitsune—which was currently possessing Stiles’ body—turned back to look at them, smiling as if it knew exactly what was going to happen, and how it was going to go. 

Dust kicked up from the pack. Stiles crashed through the door, tumbling and rolling to avoid injuring himself further. He stood back up quickly, wincing only when Derek rushed forwards and caught the back of his shirt and held on. He pulled his hand back, holding the ripped piece of fabric in his hands. Derek growled at it and tossed it down on the ground, leaving it behind. The Nogitsune spins around, stopping in the center of the large room. 

Memories flashed back as Derek began to remember everything that once happened here. _Paige, Deucalion, Ennis,_ he thought, the spiral on the front door bringing back distant words that he once said. 

“It means revenge”—He said, motioning to the symbol—“and it’s what we came here to get.”  He growled. The Nogitsune nodded, laughing lowly under it’s breath. It runs its hands through its hair— _Stiles’ hair, Stiles’ hands, not its,_ Derek thinks, having to force himself to think because this monster is nothing like Stiles, but even to him it’s becoming harder to see them as two separate beings instead of as a whole. 

“Is that so? You came to get your precious Stiles back? He’s _gone._ He’s trapped in his own mind.” It said, holding its fingernails up to its face as it picked at them, a surprisingly human trait. Scott roared, lurching forwards as he darted towards the young teen. The Nogitsune reacted quickly, it held its hand out, blowing softly on the substance that lay in it. It spread out, quickly forming a large circle around it.  

“What is this?” Scott shouted after he was flung back from simply touching it. The rest of the pack went on defense, all jumping when Lydia spoke up from the back of the group. 

“Mountain Ash was seen as a protective substance, it was used to ward off witches way-back-when”—She said, abruptly stopping when she was cut off by the Nogitsune. 

“But, that’s not it’s only use, now is it?” It asked, taunting. “It can be used to protect and hide things, people, et cetera. The only problem with this was the fact that it could be used to keep something away from someone.” It said, its voice fading before it inhaled to start again. Lydia coughed softly and regained the attention of the pack. 

“There are subspecies of Mountain Ash, all stemming from the Rowan tree. There’s a legend that Thor, the god of thunder, was trapped in a rapid river, unable to escape. But, he managed to hold onto a branch of the tree and save himself, it was from then on known as a sort of protection symbol.” Lydia explained, stepping forwards and towards the Nogitsune. She bent down, reaching out to inspect the Mountain Ash, not touching it. 

“Quite right, Little Banshee.” Stiles commented, walking forwards to meet her at the line. “The only problem with Mountain Ash is that it can be broken by humans, as well as Druids.” He paused and glanced up, chuckling at the hopeful looks that most of the members of the Hale Pack adopted. “The good thing for me is that, well, do you see any Druids or humans around here?” He asked, his loud laughter filling the distillery. 

“We have Stiles.” Scott, forced out through gritted teeth. He closed his hand around his fingers, his claws digging into his palms as he tried to maintain control of his shift. Blood dripped to the floor, forming a small pool before Scott could managed to reign in his control. 

“What do you think Stiles is going to do? Keep pounding at the walls of his mind some more? Keep screaming himself hoarse as he _begs_ for mercy?! As he begs for his _pack_ , for his _friends_ , for his _family_?!” The Nogitsune shouts, its voice raising with every breath as it pounds its fist against the Mountain Ash barrier, accentuating each word that he knew would strike a nerve. The pack shrunk back, wincing as they were told what Stiles was going through. 

“He’s strong, he’ll make it through this.” Isaac said, stepping forwards. He flashed his yellow eyes and bared his teeth. He stepped to the side as Lydia moved back, joining the pack once again. 

“You actually believe that? He is broken! He is whimpering for someone, oh just _someone_ — _anybody—_ to help him. ‘Help me, help me!’ Oh, it’s just pathetic!” It shouts, clutching the sides of its heads as it rolls its neck backwards, glaring up at the ceiling. 

“Of course we believe that,” Derek snarled, taking his turn at speaking. “Stiles is our pack member and no matter what you tell us we’ll keep on believing that.” He sternly reported back, standing firm on the belief that Stiles would make it through this. 

“You creatures of the night are just so ignorant!” It roared, the lights bulbs in the lights that hung over head flashing and then shattering. A wind picked up outside, beginning to howl and rattle the walls. “Not everyone of your little _pack_ ” —he spat the word out like it was dirt—“makes it out of these types of things. Oh, but that’s right, you already knew that, didn’t you?” It paused, pacing back and forth behind the line. “Scott, you remember Allison, don’t you? How she cried when I killed her? How she died in your hands? You remember how you will always see your best friend—your brother—as the man who killed your lover!” It finished, huffing and glaring. 

Scott clenched his eyes, his claws stuck in his palm once again. Lydia rubbed his back reassuringly, making sure that he knew he wasn’t alone in this. 

“And you, Derek,” The Nogitsune started, chuckling lowly as its eyes darkened, filling will the lust for death. “Where should we start? Why not your family? How you could hear their screams, as they begged to be let out, as they cursed you for whoring yourself out to that bitch, Kate!” It screamed, pushing against the barrier and causing it to pulsate a deep blue, tinged with red. 

Derek held his breath, wincing as each word tumbled out of the monster’s mouth. He fell to his knees, hearing the demon pick up its breath again, ready to berate him even more. 

“Stop!” Lydia shouted, trying to defend Derek, to save him from the inevitable horrors that were to be soon told. The rest of the pack didn’t know about his old relationship with Kate, if you could even call it that, only Stiles and Lydia knew because they had worked it out on their own. A few moments passed and the monster just laughed, telling the pack that he would never stop, that he could never be stopped. 

“How about those teenagers you murdered? Erica, who just wanted to to be noticed. I mean, you’re not the only one at fault”—He smiled cruelly, knowing that he could defeat them, that he could win—“Stiles here had little Erica hanging onto his feet, praying that he would notice her. But no, he just kept on worrying about his little pack, the ones that got him into this mess in the first place! You, Derek, got Erica and Boyd into this, you tricked them into thinking that what you had to offer would be better. But all you had to offer was _death_! 

“Erica fought to her dying breath, she thought that she would get out, that she and Boyd and Cora would be able to get out and find you, that they would actually be able to live a normal life! They thought that their mighty Alpha would save them in time, that they actually had a pack that cared about them. The poor things. 

“And Boyd, the loner. Mr. ROTC. The one who wanted to be a warrior but didn’t even have anyone he would have wanted to protect. But then you came along, Alpha of Hale, and you gave him something to protect, but in the end it was the things that he wanted to protect and love that killed him in the end. He died on your hands, on your claws, on that fiend, that monster aspect of you!” Its rant slowed to a halt, and by then Derek was crumpled in on himself, wishing he could just die. 

A few moments devoid of sound passed, leaving all of the creatures to their thoughts. Derek slowly rose to his feet, limbs shaky and uncertain. He shook out his head, his beta features erupting out. He snapped his jaw, feeling his teeth elongate. The color in his eyes faded out, the crimson soon replacing it as it bled into his irises. Derek opened his mouth and summoned the power that his wolf held, his roar echoed throughout the building. The werewolves behind them felt the energy and strength that the roar possessed as their eyes flashed their respective colors. 

The Nogitsune laughed, crossing its arms as four Oni appeared behind him. They all assumed their stances, katana’s drawn and pointed at the supernatural beings that inhabited the room. He raised his arms and flicked his wrist. The Mountain Ash scattered across the room, collecting in a neat pile in the corner. 

“Checkmate.” 

The Oni dashed forwards, making odd chattering noises as the room erupted into battle. Roars hit the ears of everyone in the room. Claws broke out and soon enough everybody was fighting for their's and their friend's lives. The Nogitsune backed up, observing the whole scene from afar. A sly smile stayed splayed on his face as he felt the pain and angst of the pack give him more power. 

An eerie yellow-green light shone out from within one of the Oni. It looked down and ripped the bolt out of its chest. It collapsed to the floor in a gust of black smoke. A small firefly crawled on the floor, looking helpless. Chris Argent stepped forwards, his boot landing firmly on the small insect. He looked at the pack, crossbow in hand. 

“Silver”—he shouted, helping Kira fight off one of the Oni—“It’s their weakness!” He told them, tossing a small box to Isaac who was doing his best against the monsters. 

The Nogitsune growled, furrowing its brow as it felt parts of its plan begin to unravel. Its nose twitched and curled back, pulling its lips up in a snarl. It moved around, it’s movements fluid and looking like liquid, much like those of a fox. 

Two Oni ganged up on Ethan and Aiden. They fought their hardest but they were no match for the much more skilled beings. Hit after hit they took but they knew that in the end they wouldn’t win. 

One of the Oni diverted its attention to a silver-head arrow that was making its way towards it. Its sword lashed out and cut the arrow in half, the tipped half skidding towards Aiden. He snarled and darted towards it, grabbing the arrow and forcing it into the back of the Oni attacking his brother. 

“Aiden!” Ethan cried out watching as the Oni that had been attacking Aiden previously moved to finish what it had started. The sword sliced through the air, but that wasn’t the only thing it sliced through. Aiden slowly looked down, the shock and pain flowing throughout his body. He saw the tip of the blade coming out of his stomach, he felt the hilt of it pressing up against his back. 

Argent shot another arrow at the last Oni, all of the others having been defeated. It clicked off its chatter sound once more before dissipating into nothingness. 

The dark spirit watched from afar, not able to leave but, not wishing to draw attention to itself either. It felt the amount of pain Aiden was in and basked in it, drawing in everything he had to offer. Not only was it coming from Aiden but from Ethan too, their connection strengthening the pain. It laughed louder, drawing the attention of the pack.

“Such sweet, sweet pain.” It inhaled deeply, wafting the air up to its nose. “Such delicious agony.” It added a moment later, smiling cruelly as a whimper sounded from both of the twins. 

Lydia stood at a standstill, unable to move as she watched Aiden slowly bleed out. She finally snapped out of her daze, crying out soft whispers of ‘no, no, no, no, please God, no’ as she rushed to him. 

Ethan sat in front of him, holding his neck and head as he supported most of his weight. He choked out a gasp that sounded vaguely like ‘I’m so sorry’ but it was hardly decipherable. 

“Does it hurt you as much as it hurts me?” He asked, black blood dripping down his chin and onto his chest. He coughed, unable to breath correctly. The blade had hit one of his lungs and it was slowly filling with blood. If time or the wound itself didn’t kill him he would eventually end up choking on his blood. 

Ethan nodded. “Yeah,” he gasped out, the pain filling his chest and taking over his body. “I’m sorry.” He said, unable to think of anything else to say. Unable to think of any words that would be able to cover all of his feelings at this moment, at the moment of his brother—his best friend’s—death. 

“’s okay,” Aiden whispered, barely audible over the sound of his labored breathing. His eyes were clouded with pain as he looked to his brother and whispered out the sentence, “Lydia never thought I was a hero anyway,” before falling silent. 

Lydia’s sobs grew louder when she heard him whisper those words. “I do think you’re a hero, you’re my hero.” She told him, needing to know that he knew this before anything else happened. She fell to her knees when she saw him nod before falling limp in Ethan’s arms. Ethan cried out setting him down on the cement ground before pounding the flooring with his fist. It cracked and filled with blood as he sobbed in anguish. He raised his mouth to the ceiling and roared a loud and mighty roar. It ripped through the air and filled the pack bond with hurt and anger. His roar soon turned into a long, slow howl filled with the pain his was clearly experiencing. 

“You’re all on your own now, Ethan.” Its voice slowly crept out from within the shadows. It lurked in the corner of their eyes, never stepping out or revealing itself until it felt necessary. When the light of the moon hit its face, illuminating the glee and joy from Aiden’s death, Ethan’s growl grew louder. He was thought to be the calm one, the one who didn’t want to fight, but when it came to his brother he was more fierce than a hundred wolves. 

“No, you’re on your own.” Scott spat back, facing the beast. Lydia and Derek stood behind him, giving him strength as he prepared to finish this banter and kill the enemy. 

“You’re all out of moves, Scott, you have nowhere to run. This just isn’t a war you’re going to win.” It retorted, slowly stepping forwards to kill some of the space between them. 

“Not quite,” Lydia said, taking a few steps forwards to bring the attention to herself. She moved sideways her feet shakily hitting the floor as she diverted the attention from the wolves to her. 

“What am I missing, then?” It asked, its eyes alight with the idea and thought of all the pain that could soon appear. 

“We have one move left. A divine move,” Lydia forced out, her voice still thick with anger and sorrow. Her passion for defeating it was only fueled by the death of her lover. 

“Divine move? Divine move? You think you have any moves left at all? You can kill the Oni. But me? Me? I’m a thousand years old! You can’t kill me!” The Nogitsune shouted, quickly advancing on Lydia as she backed up, Derek right behind her, stumbling back. Its voice was filled with rage, anger evident on its face. It wasted no time clearing the space between them. 

“But we can change you!” Lydia squeaked out, remembering something that it had evidently forgotten. 

“What?” It whispered softly, not sure it had heard her correctly. 

“You forgot about the scroll.” Derek pointed out, catching on to what Lydia meant. 

“The Shugendo scroll,” Lydia filled it in, taking pleasure in watching the glee flood out of its face soon replaced with fear.

“Change the host…” It whispered quietly, knowing what was going to happen. Its voice barely above a whisper, barely audible, barely wanting to believe it. 

“You can’t be a fox _and_ a wolf.” Derek growled, his voice growing in strength when he realized that the trickster spirit’s plans were slowly crumbling. 

A look of horror appeared on its face, contorting and twisting when Scott dug his claws into its shoulder. 

“NO!” It roared, its voice sounding hoarse with pain and horror. It shifted, struggling and trying its hardest to rip away from Scott but only succeeded in forcing Scott to dig his claws in deeper. If the bite that Scott delivered moments later didn’t turn it then the gouges in its shoulder sure would. It roared and struggled to pull away, but Scott had already sunk his teeth into its forearm. 

Scott pulled away, watching as the monster stumbled away, obviously weakened. A sword pierced through its chest and appeared on the front. Blood dripped from it behind it was pulled back through, Kira holding the hilt. Its face began to pale, eyes bloodshot and filled with pain. It choked out a few strangled gasps before falling to its knees. It convulsed for a moment before coughing up a small fly, which flew away. 

“Isaac!” Argent shouted. Isaac looked down at the box with he held in his hands. He darted forwards and caught the parasite in it, screwing the lid on before it could escape. 

The body which still sat kneeling in the distillery began to form cracks on it. The empty shell of a being without its inhabiter is just a husk. Cracks appeared on its face and body, dust falling to the ground. Black appeared around its eyes which stared lifelessly into space. The lycans in the room weren’t sure if this meant that Stiles himself was dead, but they could all hope and pray that he wasn’t. 

The body fell over and as it hit the ground it dissipated into rolling clouds of ash and smoke. When the dust cleared a body lay in the middle, unmoving. Nobody moved. Blood made its way onto the floor, collecting in a small pile. Eventually one of the wolves snapped out of the stupor they were all stuck in. 

“Stiles!” Scott cried, for at the angle he was at he was able to see the body’s face. He darted forwards and shifted Stiles onto his back, holding him in his arms. He took the silence that hung in the room as the opportunity to listen to Stiles’ heartbeat. He found that it was faint but barely there. “Someone help me! We have to get him to a hospital!” His eyes flashed red, his control slipping when he thought that he might lose another loved one for the third time in two days. The injuries that the Nogitsune sustained while in Stiles’ body stuck through to even after it had died. The claws marks on his calf, the claws mark in his shoulders, the bite mark on his forearm. None of them went deep enough to turn him, oddly enough, but it was enough to slow down his heart rate, and with time: his healing process. 

Derek took his chance to grab Stiles and follow Scott out of the distillery. The rest of the pack stayed behind, taking their turns to say goodbye to Aiden before both Lydia and Aiden went out to bury him. Isaac, Kira, and Argent disappeared to put the Nogitsune back under the Nemeton, hopefully never to be seen again. 

Scott and Derek sprinted through the woods, wasting no time to get to the latter’s car which was parked about a mile out. Derek hadn’t even realized that he had shifted but when he ran past Scott he was aware that he wasn’t quite human anymore. Scott joined him in the beta shift to move faster. When they finally reached the car Derek carefully placed both himself and Stiles into the backseat while Scott flung himself in, not caring what happened to him so long as Stiles was safe. He started up the car and tore out of the woods and onto the open road. 

Things had appeared to have calmed down before Derek decided to listen to Stiles’ heartbeat. 

“Speed up, Scott! I can’t hear his heartbeat!” He demanded, wanting to use his alpha abilities but knew that it would be difficult considering both he and Scott were alphas. The air, already thick with tension, would only grow tighter when the power of both the alpha’s counteracted with each other. 

The car sped up, the sound of the engine piercing the air. After a few moments of silence the sound of the tires popping broke through.

Derek’s head shot up and he looked around. His eyes landed on Scott who was struggling to control the vehicle. He wrestled with the steering wheel, attempting to regain direction. 

As the car careened towards the tree line it suddenly hit something. The object was solid; solid enough to send the Camaro flipping. The car rolled over its side a few times before settling in the woods, upside down. 

Scott looked around, he was pinned underneath the car. He craned his neck back, attempting to look for Derek and Stiles. He could feel bones rearranging themselves. He could hear the crunch and slide of bone and muscles as they healed. 

“Stiles!” He cried out, hoping the human was okay. “Derek?” He called, hoping for at least a response from the ‘wolf. 

A crack of a twig from within the trees caught Scott’s attention. He looked around wildly, trying to find the source of the sound. He spotted Derek leaning against a tree, his limps splayed out at odd angles. Stiles lay in the grass beside him, blood covering his face and dripping out into a pool below. 

Scott fought against the iron grip that held him. He roared loudly, squirming in an attempt to escape. Stiles needed him, Derek needed him, he needed to get out. 

A low chuckle forced its way out through the darkness and towards Scott. 

“Nice try, little Alpha.” The voice said, sounding like silk. Scott looked towards where the voice was coming from. A large figure stepped out of the shadows, heading towards Stiles and Derek. “Promise you won’t tell?” He asked, leaning down towards where Derek was propped up against a tree. 

“Who are you? What do you want?” Scott could only guess that this guy meant no good. In response Scott only gained another low chuckle. 

“If only you had promised…” The figure said lowly. Scott’s eyes began to adjust to the night. It was a lot harder considering how much pain he was in. The man reached into his coat jacket and pulled out a long, slender dagger; dripping in some liquid. 

The man reached up to Derek’s face, dragging the knife alongside his cheekbones before wrapping his hand around the back of his neck and pulling his torso forward. 

“You should have promised.” The man whispered softly, something a human wouldn’t have heard but a ‘wolf would’ve. He brought the knife down into Derek’s back. Derek’s flinched but made no move of waking from unconsciousness. 

Scott’s mouth opened in a roar, the smell of blood and wolfsbane hitting his nose. He snarled and snapped his teeth when the man walked over to Stiles, tutting softly under his breath. 

“Oh, he will do just fine.” He said. He looked back at Scott, a devious smile on his face. He licked his lips before leaning down. His hands trailed over Stiles' face and chest. 

“Leave him alone!” Scott demanded, once again trying to get out from under the car. He hadn’t healed enough for his strength to be at a point where he could lift a car. 

The man shrugged and took out another knife. He made a series of cuts along Stiles’ forehead and arms. Blood spilled out, collecting into an even deeper pool. The man picked Stiles up like he weighed nothing. 

“I’ll give you one more chance…” The man offered as he walked over to Scott, with Stiles in his arms. “Promise you won’t tell?” 

“Wait, wait, wait! Promise I won’t tell what?” Scott asked, attempting to reason with the figure. He couldn’t tell if he was human or not as he had no scent. 

“This.” The man said simply. He smiled creepily. His hand moved up to Stiles’ forehead. He inhaled sharply and began mumbling indistinct words under his breath. A soft golden glow began emanating from Stiles’ mouth. The man breathed in and the golden glow turned into a small orb of golden liquid. It floated up and into the man’s mouth. The man stayed quiet for a moment before looking around again. 

“Magic takes the form of many things; in this case it takes the form of me.” He smiled once again before walking off into the woods. 

Scott could feel the effect of whatever just happened. The air around him felt thick, filling his lungs with something that didn’t work. He inhaled again and again, gasping as he struggled with the car. He beat his fist again and again on the side of it. Dent after dent appeared and he just couldn’t bring himself to care. He had failed again. His brother, his best-friend, taken; gone; ripped right out from underneath him. He had just gotten him back, and now he was gone and what could Scott do about it? Nothing. He was trapped under that car while Stiles was off; kidnapped. Derek was bleeding out, wolfsbane in his system and Scott couldn’t do a damn thing about it. 

He yelled and pushed at the car with all of his might, not caring about the energy and pain it would take and give. The car frame pushed up with his hands, giving him enough space to crawl out from under the wreckage. He looked around and took a moment. He debated going to help Derek or going to help Stiles. Eventually it was his best-friend who won. 

Scott took off into the woods, hoping that he was following Stiles’ scent correctly. He smelled a bit of blood, a scent he didn’t recognize. He catalogued it and sorted it to the man who had taken Stiles. He sprinted through the woods, black spots appearing and dancing in his vision. He hadn’t healed enough. Not enough blood had regenerated. He was bleeding out, but before that could happen he was going to be unconscious. He stumbled and tripped over a tree root. He landed harshly on his side. 

“Stiles…I’m sorry…” He managed to gently cough out before the black spots completely claimed his vision and sent him to the darkest corners of his mind. 

 

***

 

 

It was morning when Derek woke. He woke with a gasp, pain filling his body before he had a chance to even think a single thought. He looked around, hoping to find friends surrounding him. He found none. 

The memories of the night before rushed back, leaving him in a swirl of questions.

“Stiles? Scott!” He called out hoping for a response. He attempted to stand up but found that he could barely move his legs. It was when he looked down at them that he actually realized how deep of shit he was in. Black lines swarmed his legs, trailing on his torso and onto his arms and neck. Carefully he shifted his arms around to feel at the source of pain. He touched something metallic. He figured it was a piece of shrapnel that had broken off in the car crash. 

A snap of a branch in the woods had the defenseless Derek attempting to twist around and look for the sound. He hoped it was a jogger or someone who could call the police and help him. The road he was on wasn’t one that was in use. It was a disused fire road that was shut down when the trees around it began to die and fall into it because of a certain species of bug. 

Another snap of a twig had Derek thinking that maybe they weren’t trying to be quiet. But, on the other hand they had soft footsteps that reminded him of Stiles’. 

“Who’s there?” He coughed out. He could feel liquid hit the inside of his lips. He dabbed his tongue out, tasting blood. This wasn’t good. 

“Derek? Oh my God, I’m so sorry.” The voice spoke again. 

Derek’s world stopped. No. There was no way. His heavy, ragged breathing sharply halted. His eyes stared blankly ahead. What type of cruel hallucination was this? He was vaguely aware that the person had come around the side of the tree where he lay. They were staring at him, hands on his neck and cheek. 

“Laura?” 

“Derek? I’m so sorry I left you, I promise it won’t happen again.” Laura promised. Derek’s eyes focused once again and his breathing regained its unsteady rhythm. 

Derek coughed again, lurching forwards and spitting the blood in his throat out into the grass. Red on green; ruining the image of serenity in the wild. 

“This is so much more worse than I thought,” Laura said quietly. Derek had stopped listening a while ago. He knew that she wasn’t real, that this was merely his imagination; but goddamn she sure looked real. 

Derek took this opportunity to take in lost memories. He inhaled sharply, the smell of Laura and home and _family_ returning. His eyes scanned over his face, cataloguing the freckles and scars he had forgotten. The thing about memory is that you always have an image, but over years that image becomes blurred until all you have is what you think you know. 

Derek blinked slowly and the next time he opened his eyes it was to Laura on the phone, talking to someone while she slapped his cheek sharply. 

“—erek? Stay awake!” She demanded. He nodded lazily. He had no intention of listening to her orders, but it was the Alpha in her that had him shaking himself out of the doze. 

“‘M’sorry,” he whispered softly. He closed his eyes again only to snap them back open when a sharp snarl erupted from Laura. 

“I said ‘stay awake.’” Laura reminded him. He nodded his head and stared forward at her some more. 

“‘Mm, Laura?” He asked, catching the attention of his sister. “I missed you.” He added a moment later, the feeling of darkness catching his mind.  

Laura opened her mouth to say something but the words died in her throat. She coughed and then regained herself. 

“I miss you, too, Derek.” She stood up, backing away with a hand on his cheek and a kiss on his forehead. “I’ll see you soon,” Suddenly the trees stopped swaying; the birds stopped chirping; the insects fell silent; and the forest was quiet. Laura had left him four years ago; there was no way his subconscious would be that cruel to him. There was no way his mind would let this hallucination say the last thing Laura had said to him before Peter. 

Derek’s blood ran cold as the image of Laura slowly disappeared into the mist that had formed in the early morning. He cried out a soft yelp of despair. She was leaving him again. 

A few minutes of silence within the forest passed by. It then occurred to Derek that the phone call that Laura had had been a 911 call. Just as this thought passed through his mind another followed suit after. She was a hallucination; there was no help coming. Why did he think that help would come? He was out in the middle of a forest bleeding out and dying, of course he wouldn’t get help. 

He leaned back into the tree. He made sure to arch his back, the piece of metal in his back digging in deeper when it pushed against the tree. He groaned and leaned his head against the bark, closing his eyes and resigning from fighting it anymore. He wondered if this is what Stiles felt like when he was dying. When he could feel the pain and will to live slowly ebb from every corner of his body. He wondered if this is what Stiles felt like when he saw his mother slowly die out in front of him. Her death played out over months, draining him just as much as it did her. He wondered if it was at that point that Stiles decided to stop showing his pain and hide it with jokes and quirky movements. He wondered when he realized that he does the same things except with more deadpanning and glares sharp enough to kill. 

His eyes closed for a moment. He was ready to go, this pain was too much. He didn’t know what had happened that had stopped him from healing but he knew it was bad. He wouldn’t survive another ten minutes without help. His eyes shot open when the sound of an earsplitting wail broke through the silence of the woods. 

Bright lights and screaming sirens the ambulance and police cars bulleted down the long road, screeching to a halt several meters away from the wreckage. 

People burst out of the cars, heading to the one flipped over and coated with blood. Words were shouted and commands were given. People searched the car, wondering where all the blood had come from given there was no body. 

“There’s someone over here!” A police officer shouted, rushing over to him. Derek weakly looked at him, his breathing growing more and more shallow by the second. His look of pain was briefly replaced with a look of confusion. He shouldn't be here, he couldn't be real. Laura was a hallucination, and hallucination's can't call 911. Or did Derek get something wrong? “Hang on, help’s on the way.” The officer shouted as EMTs grabbed a stretcher and kit to aid him. 

“Is that Derek Hale?” Someone said quiet loudly from the edge of the tree line. Derek heard a small disgruntled ‘what’ come from by one of the cruisers. Someone burst through the throng of people and towards him. EMTs were already by him, working on moving him to the stretcher. 

“Derek?” The person said, coming to kneel by him. The person got a few glances but otherwise no attention. 

“‘riff Stilinski?” Derek coughed out. He felt someones hand on his back and his winced in pain. 

“What the hell?” The EMT said softly. Their hand wrapped around the metallic object in his back, slowly pulling it out. Another person set about applying pressure and making sure he didn’t bleed out any more than he already had. The EMT took out the metal and showed it to the Sheriff. Derek’s eye caught the object and widened with disbelief. It was a knife. But that wasn’t the only thing he noticed. On the end it was dripping with not just his blood but a thick purple liquid that made him wince:

Wolfsbane. 

“Sheriff…” He mumbled quietly. John walked in closer to the stretcher as the transported him to the ambulance. His hand tightly grasped the front of the Sheriff’s shirt pulling him in close. “Wolfsbane. Find Argent. Quick.” He got out in between ragged breaths, interrupted by several hacking coughs. 

John nodded and backed away rushing to his car. “Carlyle, you’re head of this for now!” He appointed one of his deputies to take care of the situation of the car while he handled the situation of Derek. 

Derek collapsed on the stretcher, the effort of even leaning forward had completely drained him. He let the EMTs do their work, not bothering to try and aid them in any way. He sighed and closed his eyes, ignoring the pleas of the people around him for him to stay awake. He slipped into a warm and welcoming unconsciousness, the pain flowing away like stones in a river. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, let me just let you know that I know nothing about Greek/Roman/?? mythology and that me reading a wikipedia page shouldn't count as research but...shh. Also how do police officers and systems work? I don't know, don't ask me. 
> 
> If you ignore all the wrong things with this chapter it's actually really good. At least I think it is... Doesn't the author always think it's good? Does that mean that this story is actually shit? Uh oh, I'm in trouble.


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